


Little Devil

by Oienel



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: The question is: Little Devil - is it who or what?





	

He cracks up. His eyes disappear into small crescents behind his round glasses (fake ones, you know he did lasik years ago), his mouth falls open in the process, giving you a nice view of his perfect, white teeth and pink tongue. He throws his head back, and you watch him, not amused, over your tea. You’ve chosen the warm version, even though you were suggested taking the iced version, and you regret your decision. Your cheeks are burning and you wish to have something cold to put it to your face.

He finally straightens in his seat, and he cocks his head looking at you. He, for one, has chosen iced americano. You still can’t get your head around the depth of Korean’s love for coffee. One of his hands go up to his cap, to move it back in place, because it lost it perfect position when he was laughing.

His other hand goes to his phone, and your breath hitches.

You both freeze.

Jongdae looks at you, with his left hand hovering over his phone, and you squirm in your seat, uncomfortable. You don’t have to look up to know, that a lazy smile appears on his face. To cover your restlessness you take a sip of your tea, and you notice that he moved. He leaned forward, resting his head on his hand, with the other one playing quite threateningly with his phone.

You put your knuckles to your face feeling how hot you are.

“Calm down…” He says, cocking his eyebrow.  He unlocks his phone with his thumb, and you jump in your seat. “People will think that I am hitting you or something.”

He looks up from the screen, and your eyes lock. You love his eyes, dark and deep, and usually shining with mischief. Just like now.

You try to laugh, but your stomach clenches as you try, and the sound that leaves your lips is more breathless than you intended it to be.

“Are you all right?” He asks, suddenly serious, leaning across the table, to put his palm on your cheek. “You are burning!”

“I am all right.” You manage, swapping his hand away. But to contradict your own words, you lean forward and you snatch his coffee, putting the plastic cup to your face.

The relief is immediate.

He snorts, as you roll the vessel across your cheek.

“Yeah, that looks _all rght_.” He muses, and you flip him off. He shakes his head and focuses on his phone. Your stomach clenches, and you cough, shaky hand treading through your hair. Your roots are damp, and you are starting to sweat.

Yeah, you are definitely _all right_. You are restless, your legs shaking violently, and you can’t even focus on Jongdae’s face.

He is comfortably sprawled in his seat, looking at you half amused half concerned. And even though he has given up the armchair for you, you are sitting at it edge, not trusting yourself enough to lean back, and to try to find a comfortable position.

You gather your hair, and throw them over your arm, exposing your nape. You move the cup so you can soothe your neck, cold plastic cooling your skin.

Jongdae moves, and your knees bump under the table, and he looks around the coffee shop. It’s mostly deserted with only 4 other patrons, and quite quiet, with 10cm songs in the background. His hand moves to his phone, which he left on the table, and you surge forward, catching his hand in the process.

He looks up, surprised, and wets his lips with his tongue. You are hypnotized.

“Home?” He asks, eyebrows raising high, nearly meeting on his forehead. You nod furiously.

“Home.” You hoarse, and put the cup down on the table. He stands up, and goes to put the tray and your cup away, and you put both of your hands on the table, and you use it to stand up.

Your legs are wobbly, knees not cooperating with you and you feel ill. You jump a little in surprise, when familiar hand finds your side. He helps you stand, and if the circumstance were different you’d be thankful. He puts his phone in his pocket and hands you his cup.

You bring it back against your face, the blush from how hot you feel, mixing with the embarrassed tint on your cheeks.

*

You stumble into your apartment, Jongdae letting you go, so he can close the doors. You kick off your shoes, not caring that you leave them laying askew, and you stagger forward, bumping at the wall in your haste to get to the bed. You feel week, and ill, and burning, and your insides are churning, and you definitely have no strength left to care. Nor stand.

You fall on the bed, burying your face in the covers, your body curling into yourself. Your hand clenches on the material of your bedspread, and you unconsciously try to bring your legs as close to your stomach as possible.

You whine into your bed.

“One could think that you are really _that_ ill.” You hear Jongdae say from the room entrance, and you ignore him. You hear his shuffling around, fabrics shimmering, and screech of the moving chair, and it’s creaking as Jongdae sits down. “Man, but I have to admit, that’s hot.”

You squirm on the bed, body hot, your toes are curling, feet moving, as your legs curl and uncurl without any visible reason. You trap your arm between your thighs, your hand clenching on the back of your leg.

Suddenly the buzz fills the room, and your hips come off the mattress, as you keen highly into the mattress. Your chest is heaving, your stomach clenching in time with your blood pulsing in your ears. Even through this murmur, you hear the sound of the plastic cover of a phone hitting the wooden surface and bed dips, when Jongdae climbs on board next to you.

His hands are cool in comparison to your hot skin. He brushes your head off your nape and leaves a kiss there. You whine quietly, teeth worrying the fabrics of the covers.

“That’s so hot.” He whispers into your ear, and your pelvic floor muscles clench around the object lodged inside you. It’s vibrating relentlessly, now on its highest gear, forcing you to stand the pleasure which might be a notch too much for your level of sensitiveness.

But Jongdae presence is strangely reassuring, if not calming.

You try to move on all fours, but you fail miserably, as the thing moves with your barest movement, finding new nerves to stimulate. You keen, realizing that your face is wet from your tears. You lay on your side, muscles in your legs and lover abdomen cramping, and flexing, and you feel the bed behind you dip, as Jongdae spoons you, his left arm creeping under your neck, propping you up, other one doing a quick work of your fly, and then sliding into your underwear.

You moan of the first time today, turning your face up, just how Jongdae likes. You know that he loves to look at your face when you come apart. And now you are very much coming.

It’s hard not to, being strung out for so long, with this little devil inside you, and this a little bigger devil having two of his fingers inside you, pushing the little devil farther inside you, circling your clitoris with his thumb, and washing you over with his smooth and sinful voice sputtering filth and encouraging you to cross the tipping point.

Your orgasm is earth shattering. You tussle in his hold, but Jongdae is stronger, keeping you down, and close to him, as he pushes the thing as far as he can, his head coming down to bite your jaw.

You know he then watches you go through it, every emotion bared to his eyes, every little twitch stored away in his memory. When you come down, the buzzing now becoming painful from how sensitive you feel, he kisses your cheek and his fingers still inside you play chase with the little devil. Your muscles twitch weakly around him, and you try to plead for him to stop, but you can’t find your voice.

Finally he manages to take it out, and you watch the blue vibrating egg listening in his fingers with a sick fascination. He leans over you to his phone, to turn off the little devil, and finally the room is quiet, only your still heavy breath disturbing the peace.

He leaves the egg on the night stand, next to his phone, and falls back on the bed, the hand which just was in you, splaying on your stomach, under your shit, smearing your slick on your skin.

“I would say that was a good idea. To buy and to try out.” He says, his breath ticking your oversensitive skin.

“Really?” You ask, finally finding your voice. “Then maybe next time, you wear it outside.”

 


End file.
